


Wizards: Self-Insert Edition

by CurlyCue



Category: Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons)
Genre: Douxie has anxiety, Other, anyway. jim is here, bc hes a crunchy old bastard, but hes not an active character right now sknfkjsfnk, but i will certainly try, he is simply staying in his lane, i hate that i cried at the end, i lowkey wanted to make merlins char tag like..., is there enough canon to make this a slow burn, just letting you know because that'll be relevant, merlin (unfortunately), nonbinary reader, vibing in the stasis pod with the lads, who knows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:32:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29453850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CurlyCue/pseuds/CurlyCue
Summary: this is a self-insert rewrite of Tales of Arcadia: Wizards! yes i am simping for douxie andno ♡you cannot stop me ♡however you are very gleefully invited to join in the fun!!
Relationships: Hisirdoux "Douxie" Casperan/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	Wizards: Self-Insert Edition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> scene referenced from Wizards S1E1 "Spellbound", timestamp 18:50 through the end of the episode
> 
> (also the castle like... isn't falling apart in the episode as much as it in the chapter?? but anyway it makes more sense this way i think)

Bursts of mint-colored light rush forth from your hands, taking down shadow mephits as they approach the Heart of Avalon; your senses are on high alert, and you’re hyperaware of everything going on, improving your reflexes. Behind you, Douxie focuses on setting up the airship for Merlin’s plan, although you’re not totally sure what that plan entails-- and you’re not sure he does, either. Suddenly, there’s movement on your left, and you throw your arm out on reflex, curling your fingers into a fist and swiping your arm to the side when you recognize Archie’s dark form. The sharp movement sends you back a half-step, enough that you feel your back brush up against Douxie’s, but this is no time for apologies or personal space. 

Thankfully, your magic misses the familiar by less than a meter, and he hisses-- you grimace as you call out an apology. “Sorry, Arch!” 

His name is barely off the tip of your tongue before you catch sight of the shadow mephit in hot pursuit; eyes gone wide, you once again reach out your arm, redirecting energy to take it out at the same time as Douxie does. Your mint and his deep blue spark against the creature, and it elicits a squawk as it dissolves into cyan sparks. You huff out a breath, left arm still suspended in the air beside Douxie’s right, and toss a quick, elated grin over your shoulder to your partner in crime. The feeling of fighting back to back, mirroring one another-- it’s incredible, and your breathless smile reflects that. Despite everything going on, he responds in kind with a roguish grin, charming as ever-- and then he’s whipping around and shouting. “Archie, find the staff or we are all _dead meat!”_

“What do you people think I’m doing?” Archie’s grousing is something like background noise by now, after all this time of knowing them, but you still shake your head fondly. That easy response is quickly replaced by fierceness, though, when you shoot down a mephit that manages to get close to the two of you. 

“Go on,” you say, speaking loudly so as to be heard over the howling winds and the din of battle. Another shadow mephit dissolves in the last dregs of minty light, and you gently shove your friend with your free hand. “Get on it, Doux. I’ve got your back.” 

The way he stumbles a little at your shove brings a bubble of concern to your chest, but he’s righting himself before it has a chance to grow. A quick look over his shoulder is all you get before he’s hunching over the time map again, and you lower yourself into a better fighting stance as you prepare to go on the offense. There aren’t many mephits around the two of you, and it’s easy enough to take care of the ones that do wander over, so you widen your area of focus and immediately spot the kids across the way, cornered and outnumbered. A shot of fear lances your chest, and your hands flash green as you twist your body, and the mephits freeze in place, restrained by your magic, but clearly resisting; the fear turns to resolve, and you thrust your magic outward with force, sending the creatures soaring over the parapets toward the ground. 

Three sets of wide eyes turn upward and you give them a nod. Before they can respond, your attention is stolen away by a larger group of mephits rising from the shadows around you. “Oh, boy,” you mutter, letting your light gather between your fingertips and dropping to a crouch. A screech is your only warning before the swarm rushes forward, and you bring up a brilliant shield so quickly you can only be glad the motion also shields your eyes. At the same moment as the mephits hit the barrier with several consecutive thunks, your world tilts on its axis, and the shield flickers for a moment as you lose your footing. “Whoa--!” 

Luckily, your fellow apprentice is there, and his hand whips out to steady you before you can slip. It doesn’t take much thought to take that hand and regain your balance, but your shield flickers out just as Steve and Claire charge into the scene, and a brief glance over their shoulders leads you to the startling realization that the castle is tilting, _falling._ The realization sends your jaw dropping, and your grip on Hisirdoux’s hand loosens, so it’s no surprise that you lose the concentration to keep your enemies at bay. The mephits leap and bound toward you, ecstatic with the opportunity before them, but a shadow portal swallows them before they can even get close, and you spot another open up over the open sky and send them tumbling out-- only to be burnt up by your favorite cat-like entity. 

It only takes a moment for him to fly over, and Archie is the next one on scene, looking immensely protective as he hovers over the airship. Over the cacophony of the castle and ice breaking apart, you hear a familiar old voice shout, “Hisirdoux, now!” And immediately, your friend is shocked back to his senses, jerking his hand out of yours-- he’d been just as shell-shocked as you, seeing Camelot go to ruin before your very eyes, but after 900 years, he’s learned to follow that voice on reflex, and he’s moving before you even realize what he’s meant to be doing. You take a shaky step after him, though, sticking close and resting a hand on his shoulder as he flips open the time map: close enough to hear him murmuring to himself. “Please don’t blow us up, _please_ don’t blow us up…” 

His confidence (or lack thereof) is enough to make you swallow the lump in your throat. The hand you've got on his shoulder squeezes gently, a silent reassurance, and you grip the railing with your free hand; the look you get in response is so… heart-wrenching. Douxie has always been easy to read, because he wears his emotions so openly, and that hasn’t changed, even in all this time. So when he looks up at you between his lashes, you see that anxiety, that _fear,_ that vulnerability and worry for everyone that’s always there, and you feel your own expression soften. You lean in closer. 

“You can do this,” you tell him, voice firm, just barely loud enough for him to hear. The impact is visible: you watch as he battles his anxiety, pushing it down and clenching his jaw as he returns his focus to the controls. He’s still afraid; his grip on the steering mechanism is practically white-knuckle, and you can feel the tension in his shoulder even through the hoodie, but he’s _doing_ it. The airship lurches forward under his direction, and the resolve in his eyes is like steel. 

Over your heads, Archie seems less certain. “We don’t have enough power for the jump,” he frets. The familiar’s wings beat twice in quick succession, a nervous habit of his. 

Douxie doesn’t even spare him a glance, keeping his gaze firmly on the sky before you. The breath he draws is deep enough to raise his hackles, and you glance between him and Archie, raising your brows. You’re about to say something, anything, when he opens his mouth and bellows, “Trust in Merlin!” At that same moment, the Heart shines a brilliant, fiery emerald, and the lot of you have to avert your eyes. A ring of green fire swirls around it, blindingly bright, before shooting off in all directions at once-- and before you can get your bearings, Douxie is patting your arm and taking the steering lever, stuttering even as he shouts, “H-Hold together, come on!” 

You’ve barely looked up again, stars still dancing in your field of vision, when the airship lurches forward again, with more purpose this time; a warbling sound distorts the air around you, and quick as lightning, the Heart dispels its built-up energy, cutting the sky open with an unstable rift in space-time. Although you’re still blinking away the lights, you can clearly see through to the other side-- one where Camelot is alive and well, not yet floating in the sky, its pieces falling to the Earth, still just a simple peninsular kingdom in western Europe. Just the sight of it so soon after seeing Sir Galahad fall with a chunk of the castle is breathtaking, and you’re too stunned to process when Douxie grunts in effort and says that you have to steer Camelot into the time rift. 

Your body moves of its own accord, though, when the others move to help with the weight of the lever; you automatically follow, and the stubborn uprightness brings you back to the present as you shove it more forcefully, using all your strength and body weight to help budge it over. Finally, it moves, and the whole behemoth of a castle does with it, ever so slowly turning toward the rift. It’s almost enough to get you thinking you’re in the home-stretch, except there’s an electric charge to the air that’s got the hair on the back of your neck standing on end. It could just be the presence of such powerful sorcerers, of course, but you don’t think so; and you’re proven right, when the sky splits with light once more, this time incensed by the booming explosion of magic from behind you. _That can’t be good,_ you think. The impact happens just a fraction of a second later. 

The last thing you see before being thrown over the side is Douxie’s eyes, wide and meeting yours for just that split second; the last thing he sees before being thrown over is the fear in yours and the way you unconsciously reached for him before being torn away. Then, all you can register is the wind and the screams, both whipping around you as you fall through the space between parapets; being on Douxie’s right, you slipped downward, no edge to catch your hands on, even as you so desperately scramble for one. A scream rips its way out your throat as you lose that last bit of grip on the bricks, a scream so unlike any sound you’ve ever made-- and above you, Douxie and Claire shout. It could be words, probably your name, but you can’t tell; the air whips around you like a stifling cocoon, and it’s so fast that you can’t _breathe,_ but you feel your magic come to life just as you’re about to reach the rift. 

Light sparks from your fingertips without your asking it to, and suddenly, you’re standing still-- although your impact with the barrier leaves you breathless, the sheer will to stay alive leaves it standing strong as you sit yourself up on your elbows. “I’m okay,” you call up to them, squinting up to where you know they must be-- you can’t tell, from this far away-- but you get no response. Suddenly, there’s sickening crack, and Claire is screaming again. A glimmering green object, large and oblong, starts falling toward you, and this time, you know what she’s saying: _Jim._

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, _whoa!”_ Your magic sparks to life in your hands again, and you feel a sheen of sweat forming on your brow from the strain. In spite of that, you throw your hands out and slow his fall, gritting your teeth with effort as you do so; above you, the others continue to scream, and then they’re also falling toward you. “Shit!” 

Your voice cracks under the strain as you let Jim’s stasis pod clatter to the surface of your makeshift floor and redirect your energy toward your other three companions, all falling toward you at the same time. There’s a delay, and you feel so much weaker than usual, and for a moment you panic: _what if I can’t save them?_ In your frenzy, it doesn’t occur to you that Douxie could also help. Thankfully, though, the moment you start to get really worried, a telltale shine surrounds the three figures, and you huff out a relieved laugh, dropping to your knees as you lower them to the surface of your shield. When they’re close enough, you let them drop, collapsing onto your stomach to let your shaking arms rest. 

_"(Y/N)!"_

The worried shout of your name is a mix of voices, but the gentle press of the hand on your back is definitely Douxie’s. The fear radiates off of him in waves, and you think, _oh god, he’s on the verge of a panic attack._ “I’m okay,” you gasp. “I’m okay. You’re okay! I got you,” you reassure him, rolling onto your back, breathing hard. His face is so close to yours, and so worried, you laugh. It’s just a small one, more of relief than anything, but it still brings a hint of a smile to his face. “Now, uh… Doux, you might wanna use a telekinesis charm on this shield, get us to the ground, because I dunno how much longer--”

“Got it,” he says, cutting you off. It's strange, you think, how he sounds just as breathless as you-- but you don't put much thought into it, instead turning your head to the side to watch him work. Already, his magic pours from his hand where his palm is flattened to your shield, enveloping mint with blue, and suddenly the floor beneath you seems so much more stable, reinforced with his magic. Its movement is much smoother than the castle’s, as you pass through the doorway of space-time, but you still feel the shockwaves of distant explosions as you sit up. You manage a glance backward just in time to see Archie close behind with Merlin’s staff-- as well as the rift, closing up quickly. 

“Archie!” Without thinking, you lunge forward to pull him through, and Douxie whips around, effectively breaking your concentration and his. A lurching feeling in your stomach is all the warning you get before you’re falling again, your arm still outstretched to help Arch-- and the rift snaps shut just as your fingers graze against it. _“Ah!”_

The pain is blinding, literally; your eyes water, even without the harsh wind whipping around you, and the green light is still vibrant behind your eyelids. All you can do is curl your hand protectively to your chest as you fall through the air and try to breathe. Of course, that’s made difficult when you feel a sudden, unexpected impact; it’s much too close to be the ground, and you gasp, blinking rapidly to try and see what’s going on, and although your eyesight is starting to return, it isn’t fast enough. All you can see is blue: deep blue. Then, you’re falling again-- falling, falling, blue. The second impact brings your hand smacking into your chest, and your sharp gasp draws some attention-- when Douxie lets go of the anti-gravity spell again, this time he lets you fall close enough to the ground that he only needs to slow you all a bit before dropping you. You’re on your ass immediately, and the others follow suit, Claire moving swiftly to lean over Jim, probably to inspect the stasis pod-- but Douxie is by your side before you can follow her. 

“You’re hurt,” he murmurs, resting a hand on your upper arm. “Let’s see it, then.” Despite yourself, your good hand curls protectively around your other wrist, and you work your jaw like it’ll get you out of this situation. His hand leaves your arm, resting instead on his lap, and he gives you a searching look. _Worried._ “Come on, darling. It’s just me. Me and you, right?” His voice is so soft, so loving, and you almost forget that you’re just friends. The sound of it makes you glance up, though, and you meet his eyes for just a second; that second is long enough for him to break down your walls, and you clench your eyes shut, turning your head to the side as you abruptly thrust your hand toward him. 

The sharp intake of breath you hear as a result isn’t promising, and you reluctantly sneak a peek, only to draw that same sharp breath. _Oh. This is..._

You know, from unfortunate experience, that Douxie isn’t the best at healing spells-- neither is Merlin, apparently, and Claire is so… new, to _everything._ Douxie’s a talented wizard, and powerful-- but healing just isn’t his strong suit. His longtime friend Zoe has been his go-to for a decades, until recently, when you started helping with the more minor things; this, though? This is… this is _bad._

A nervous laugh, more of a squeak, makes its way out the back of his throat, and you swallow your nerves. “Aha… yeah,” you start, voice already shaking. “Um… shit.” Douxie just purses his lips in response, then slowly, ever so gently cradles your hand in his. “D… Uh, Douxie, what are you-- what are you doing?”

“I can fix this,” he whispers. It worries you how transfixed he seems to be by the state of your hand. “I’m gonna fix this.” 

Hearing this, your eyes widen, and your good hand whips out to wrap around his wrist. “Doux. This-- you know this isn’t your fault, right? Neither of us are skilled enough to fix this. We need a mage who knows more about healing.” The hand still resting in his lap clenches once, twice. He’s silent, and you can see him fighting himself in his head. “Hisirdoux,” you say, more severely. This gets him to look up at you; his eyes are sharp between his bangs, but they soften for you. “This _isn’t_ your fault. We need a healer.”

He’s about to respond when Claire butts in, tone sharp and curt. _“Douxie?”_

You sigh. 

_“Where_ is the flying castle?”

His signature catchphrase is quiet, under his breath, more an exhale than anything. “Oh, fuzzbuckets.” You chuckle, and it’s soft, but he catches it, giving you a soft smile and a pat to your good hand before turning to her. “It would appear, er… we’ve had ourselves a… temporal accident.”

“Which _means?”_

You furrow your brows, frowning as you straighten up and curl your hand to your chest again; you’re not sure you like the tone she’s taking with your friend. “It means…” you begin, glancing over at Steve as he goes wide-eyed, raising a brow. He squeaks, raising one shaking hand to point over your shoulder. You’re just beginning to turn when you hear the high-pitched scrape of a sword unsheathing, and you squeak and jerk backward in shock as the blade comes down between you and Douxie, who takes it much better than you. Following the sword upward with your eyes, you feel the situation rapidly solidify in your mind as your gaze falls on an honest-to-god knight in full metal armor. 

All around you, the quiet of the forest comes alive with the sound of moving metal and chattering soldiers, and you realize you’re surrounded. You’re _surrounded,_ and both you and Douxie are effectively spent, magically speaking. Beside you, your fellow sorcerer turns his head this way and that, gaze flitting about too quickly to really be taking anything in. The rise and fall of his chest is shallow, fast: you know the signs. He’s overstimulated, panicking. 

Realizing this, you feel your own anxiety be pushed down by something else, and you feel as though you’re made of that same steel as the sword in front of you. “It means we’re lost in time,” you finish. Your voice is quiet enough to go unheard by the noisy soldiers, but all too audible to your companions; on the ground, your fingers slowly inch through the grass to find Douxie’s, and you take his hand in yours, rubbing your thumb over his skin. It doesn’t do much for his anxiety, given the situation, but he gives you a grateful smile out of the corner of his eye. 

That smile doesn’t last long: it turns nervous the moment the knight before you speaks up, jolting his blade for emphasis. “What manner of sorcery is this?” 

There is a brief moment where you think, you know, maybe you’ll be able to have a reasonable conversation about this. And then, of course, Steve starts screaming.


End file.
